


you can get what you want but it's never enough

by problematic_pleasures



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Episode Tag, M/M, No Smut, S7E7, just sexual tension, slightly canon divergent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-10
Updated: 2016-12-10
Packaged: 2018-09-07 16:49:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,704
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8808460
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/problematic_pleasures/pseuds/problematic_pleasures
Summary: Carl and Negan's confrontation in Negan's room goes a little differently.





	

**Author's Note:**

> my first cegan fic! not beta'd, just an idea i had after watching s7e7, diverges slightly from what happened in the episode. i don't really go into specifics about the age difference at all, but i see carl as being at least 17 here, hence the underage tag. don't like? don't read please!
> 
> hope you like it!

Carl looks up slowly, willing his lower lip to stop quivering as he goes. He burns with hatred—because of Negan, because of his father, because of his own weaknesses—and that only makes the urge to cry that much stronger. He shakes and looks up, hair falling just enough to cover the gore on his face. He meets Negan’s gaze with his best attempt at defiance, and ignores the whimper stuck in his throat.

“Oh,” Negan coos, “look at _you_.” He reaches out a burly hand, dusted in grease and probably dried blood, but Carl flinches away. Negan stops, fingertips just inches away from the marred skin of what used to be Carl’s right eye, and he chuckles. “Sensitive, are we?” Negan’s head tilts, curious and with an underlying hint of another emotion, one not quite as malicious. “Does it still hurt?”

Carl feels even more shaken by the firm tone, the directness of Negan’s voice. Meek, but honest, Carl replies. “Only phantom pain, really.”

Negan nods. “Not infected?” His tone is softer but no less direct.

Carl shrugs. “Not that I can tell.” When Negan’s hand moves subtly closer, he reigns in the responding flinch this time. He catalogues the heat of Negan’s skin against his own, the way Negan’s calloused fingertips scrape along Carl’s soft cheek. Negan doesn’t touch the eye immediately, only skirts around the edges of the wound. His touch feels almost reverent, delicate and careful but _hungry_.

“God, that is _disgusting_ ,” Negan huffs happily. He tilts his head and grins. “Gnarly, kid, that’s what that is.”

Tears burn in Carl’s one good eye but he blinks them away. It’s not something he likes to think about, just how disfigured his face has become, but Negan’s tone isn’t unkind.

“Makes you look like a badass, no one’s gonna fuck with you, lookin’ like that.”

Carl’s skin burns under the collar of his shirts, with pride or pleasure or just simple embarrassment.

“Can I touch it?” Negan asks, eyes bright. “Oh, please, can I?”

Carl feels suddenly tongue-tied, so rather than speaking he just tilts his head back. His hair falls back to expose the wound fully, and it pushes his face into Negan’s touch.

“Good boy,” Negan murmurs with his eyes locked on the flesh. His touch is even lighter as he moves across the scars and webbing. He doesn’t probe, doesn’t pry, doesn’t press—no, his fingertips drag against the sensitive skin ever so gently. “God _damn_ ,” he hisses. “I’m almost jealous. Not that I need any wicked battle scars to scare the shit outta people, but it certainly doesn’t hurt, huh?”

Carl nods slightly, causing Negan’s hand to brush his face again.

Negan withdraws his touch slowly and Carl resists the urge physically chase the touch. He follows Negan’s form with his eye, though, watches Negan’s hand settle and follows the sleek lines of the leather jacket up until he’s looking at Negan straight on. “Like what you see, boy?”

Now, the blush that had only been on his chest bleeds up, covers his face right up to his hairline. Carl can feel the heat as it spreads in blotches, uneven and ugly. Negan only chuckles.

“Course ya do,” Negan mutters with a slight shake of his head. The gesture almost seems fond, exasperated but not in a tired way. “Well, c’mere then.”

Carl jumps when Negan extends his hand again, for Carl to take. Carl simply stares at the offering and swallows nervously.

“C’mon, kid, let’s get on with it then.”

Body burning with the implication behind Negan’s words, Carl reaches out as well. He slips his hand against Negan’s palm and grips. For a moment, nothing happens. They simply sit there, holding hands, and Carl’s heartbeat slows a fraction. Negan even brushes his thumb across Carl’s knuckles in a way that’s almost sweet.

“C’mere, Carl,” Negan murmurs. Then, he pulls.

Not hard enough to hurt but enough to have Carl stumbling to his feet. He stands with shaking legs and grips Negan’s hand tighter. Breath caught in his chest and head swimming, Carl freezes.

“Alright,” Negan announces. “Gonna give you till the count of three to make up your mind.” He holds up his free hand, ready to visualize his countdown. “And, don’t get me wrong—you are _more_ than welcome to back out. You haven’t promised me nothin’ yet, so no hard feelings if you sit your pretty ass right back down and we pretend this never happened.”

Negan makes a show of looking Carl up and down before continuing. “Or, you can get over here with me, and I’ll show you a hell of a good time.” Negan grins, filthy and delighted. “But once I get’ya, I won’t be letting go.”

Carl exhales through his nose and watches Negan count down.

“One,” Negan says as he raises a single finger. Carl doesn’t move except to watch Negan’s hands.

“Two,” Negan says after a few seconds have passed; he’s being generous, Carl knows, though he’d much rather have a few hours to consider the offer rather than a few seconds. Carl looks Negan up and down, looks back at the seat he’d stumbled from, the back to Negan.

Two fingers raised and a third twitching, Negan stops counting. He doesn’t say anything, but his eyes are sharp with their intense focus on Carl.

A shiver wracking through his body, Carl steps forward slowly.

Negan drops his fingers from counting and holds his hand out, palm open. An invitation.

Carl takes the proffered grip with his own freehand and slowly, carefully clambers into Negan’s lap. Negan helps him keep his balance, lets him settle before speaking again.

“That’s it,” Negan says appreciatively. “Wasn’t so hard, now was it?”

Carl shakes his head. The action has his hair falling back to cover his eye, at which Negan tsks. Negan reaches up to brush Carl’s hair back, tucking it out of the way.

“Look at you,” Negan coos again. He finally looks away from Carl’s damaged face to appreciate the rest of the younger man’s body. “All for me?” He asks, rhetorical and teasing. He settles one hand on Carl’s hip and slips his thumb under Carl’s shirts, rubbing at the soft skin of his side.

Carl shakes so hard his teeth chatter, but it’s not from fear. Anticipation, maybe, or excitement—adrenaline, or desire. He’s not sure, but he’s not scared in this moment. He’s not scared of Negan, or of anything.

“Say my name, Carl.” Negan hums as he teases Carl’s side, his touch hot like a brand.

“Negan,” Carl breathes. His whole body slumps finally as he lets go of the tension he’s been holding. He falls forward just a little and lets Negan take his weight. “Negan,” he says again as he tilts his head forward. His heart hammers in his chest, so loud he’s certain Negan must be able to hear it.

“What is it, boy?” Negan taunts.

Carl’s breath hitches and the words feel heavy like molasses on his tongue. He sinks a little, settling properly into Negan’s lap. He isn’t surprised to feel the heat and firmness of Negan’s erection, constrained in pants but far from subtle. Carl rests on the pressure and sparks of arousal flood through his body like a dam broke. With the slight change in position, he and Negan are practically eye-to-eyes.

“Carl,” Negan says quietly. “Somethin’ you want to ask of me?”

Carl flicks his gaze to Negan’s lips then back up again.

“Or, somethin’ you wanna take from me?” It isn’t said as a threat. No malice in his tone. If anything, it’s an olive-branch, offered with the hope that Carl will accept.

Carl leans in, bracing one hand on Negan’s shoulder for support, and doesn’t stop until his and Negan’s lips are barely an inch apart.

“Oh yes,” Negan hisses, words hitting Carl’s lips in a burst of wet heat. “C’mon, kid, do it.”

Carl sighs and closes the minuscule gap between them. He kisses Negan softly, humming into the kiss as the flavor of alcohol, cigarettes, undercurrents of mint invade his senses. He opens his mouth in a gasp when Negan pinches his side, and then the flavors are even heavier. Negan’s tongue takes over the kiss, memorizing every inch of Carl’s teeth and tongue, massaging and sending chills down Carl’s spine.

They don’t break apart until Carl’s lungs are burning and he pushes himself back enough to stop.

Negan grins, lips spit-slick now. “Not bad, kid. That your first kiss?”

Carl shakes his head.

An overdramatic flicker of disappointment flits across Negan’s face, “shame, would’a loved to be your first.” Quickly though, his lewd expression returns. “Ever been fucked?”

Carl shakes his head again.

“There we go.” Negan nods, pleased. “God, you were how old when this started?” He barrels on before Carl can actually answer. “You probably ain’t even ever had your dick sucked.”

“No,” Carl replies. “I haven’t—nothing. Except for kissing.” He wants to feel embarrassed, but he only feels wanted, especially with Negan’s stiff cock making its presence known against the curve of Carl’s ass.

“Good,” Negan says. His hand drifts and grazes over Carl’s ass, doesn’t grope but even the slight touch makes Carl shiver. “Needy for it, huh?” Negan observes. “That’s what I like.” He trails his hand along Carl’s body until he can knot it in the long brown locks. “C’mere,” he demands.

Carl leans in for a kiss without hesitation and opens his lips quicker this time, swallowing Negan’s answering groan of approval. Carl slips his tongue into Negan’s mouth this time, clumsily traces the ridges of his teeth, his palate. Carl sighs into the kiss and presses against Negan harder to get their bodies as close as possible. His own cock is hard and he knows it’s pressing blatantly against Negan’s stomach.

“Gonna teach you everythin’, boy. Teach you how to ride a dick, suck a dick, how to be a god damn badass. Gonna make somethin’ of you yet.” Negan promises, practically breathing the words right into Carl’s mouth.

Carl just nods. “Okay.” He gulps down his nerves. “Okay,” he says a little louder. He blinks and catches Negan’s gaze. “Okay.”

**Author's Note:**

> come talk to me about cegan on my [tumblr](https://problematic-guilty-pleasures.tumblr.com)!


End file.
